Sympathy For the Devil
by lady-kyo
Summary: Dr. Faust meets the old Stones song. SS is sick of being in the news, so when a man of wealth and taste makes him an offer he isn't sober enough to refuse, he is entangled deeper than ever before. HG is back at Hogwart's nursing her divorce. SSxHG
1. Allow Me to Introduce Myself

Sympathy for the Devil

Sympathy for the Devil

disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters, nor do I own the music referenced in or by any character herein.

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Chapter 1: Allow Me to Introduce Myself…

It was another cold and dreary night in Hogwart's Castle. Severus Snape was halfway through his second bottle of firewhiskey and was debating whether or not to stop at two or go for a third.

"Well, Severus, old boy, innocence just doesn't agree with you," he muttered to himself. He was getting full-on pissed because yet another story had been written, painting him the tragic hero. "Fifteen bloody years after the end of the war, and whenever the news gets boring, they still write about the horror of Slytherin house."

The latest story was somewhat of a new tack the younger generation of reporters was starting to troll: his lack of a love-life. Now that the children he'd "tortured" (taught, in his opinion), were the writers and power in the wizarding world, they were convinced that his single state was the reason behind his dour demeanor.

"Well, perhaps to a degree. But wanking off or the occasional whore takes care of my physical needs, thank you very much," he slurred to no-one in particular. He scanned the article and grimaced.

_Professor Severus Snape, Order of Merlin, 1__st__ class, has long been known to visit such houses of ill-repute as Madame Beau'ts Busty Bordeau, The Knob-Hole, and, though we have yet to fully investigate, sources claim he has begun frequenting The Partners' Club, a gentlemen-only site – geared towards and featuring only wizards._

_It truly is a sad state of affairs when a war hero cannot even afford himself the company of a partner, male or female, outside of putting down good galleons for a bit of time. Sadder still is the fact that Professor Snape has been approached and has turned down more than one willing wizard or witch._

_"I just don't know what his glitch is," said one enraged witch. "All I says is 'You're that Snape, ain't ye? The hero? Can I buy ya a drink?' He saved my cousins in one of the Deatheater attacks on Hogwart's. I just wanted to thank him, he didn't have to be so bloody rude!"_

_A young wizard also tried to invite the Professor out and was turned out on his ear for the suggestion. The young man refused to be quoted, though his friends say he was called such names as "flaming widget" and "assuming, infuriating dunderhead" by the older wizard._

_Who can say what makes Severus Snape run, romantically, but surely it is a pathetic state when such a tragic hero can not find a companion to live out his years with. We'll cover more about his past liaisons as this series, "The Heart of Severus Snape", continues over the next few weeks._

_ Lavender Brown Malfoy_

He chucked the paper across the room and into the fire, irked that the article was in print, and more than pissed because it was written by his godson's wife. Lavender had proven to be a good love match for Draco, but the woman should never have been allowed near a newspaper. Especially considering that she was close enough to get more information than just about any other reporter.

"Blasted witch," Severus fumed. He was seriously contemplating the third bottle of firewhiskey when he was suddenly and unwelcomingly sober. He blinked once, twice, and shook, his body resenting its sudden lack of alcohol. He sat down, hard, on his over-stuffed, ratty old favorite chair – the only thing he brought with him from Spinner's End.

He looked up, wiped at his bleary eyes, and cracked a creaky laugh at the figure standing in front of him. It was an old man, in coat and tails, a long, ebony walking stick in his right hat, a top hat in the other. He nodded to Severus, but held up his hand.

"No, no, please, don't get up on my account. And consider your sudden sobriety… a free gift," the old man smiled, revealing shiny, sharp, even teeth. For a moment Severus thought of his own, crooked, yellowing teeth and was jealous. The gentleman smiled and buffed the ivory skull top of his cane on his sleeve. "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm… a man of wealth, and taste."

Severus snorted, a very un-Severus-like thing to do. He shook his head and eyed the third bottle of firewhiskey. He'd only had two. He shouldn't be delusional, not on two bottles of the cheap stuff.

"You must be joking," Severus said, leaning back and templing his fingers in front of his face. "That song was very popular amongst muggle and magical alike, and while you're assuredly a strong wizard to be standing, still alive, in my inner sanctum, I don't believe in what you think you're pretending to be."

"Severus Tobias Snape, only son of Eileen Snape nee Prince and the disreputable Tobias Snape, first lover of Lily Potter nee Evans, and lustful Master of Potions of Hogwart's… who else could be standing here, wasting breath with you?" the gentleman's façade was beginning to fade.

"And if I choose to believe your senile rantings?"

The Devil licked his lips. "Play a game with me. Give me free reign to grant your wishes… all I ask for… is your soul."

Severus snarled, the closest thing he had to a smile. Well, he might be sober, but he was still a Snape. And if the senile old wizard wanted to use his considerable talent to ease Severus's life, so be it. He'd die before he could take any of it back.

"Sure, old man, have my soul. Black as it is, I have no need for it. Is a verbal agreement enough or do I need to piss in the snow for you?"

"First, my name is not old man. If you're going to address me, get it right. But before I grant any wish… guess my name."

"Rumplestiltskin."

The Devil paled in fury but regained his colouring shortly, rolling his head on his neck, a bit of flame glowering in the back of his eyes. "I would guess seriously, Lord Snape. Piss me off and I'll take your soul where you stand. The Dementor's would still get a kick out of sodomizing your sorry ass."

"Buggering old coot," Severus said under his breath. After the article Lavender had published, that hit a little too close to home. "What do you want me to call you? Mephistopheles?"

A closed-lip smile replaced the gleaming white one. "That shall work just fine, my boy. A show, if you will, of the smallest bit of power I have. If you wake up and find that nothing is different, then consider your soul your own and forget we ever met."

Severus tried to glare at Mephistopheles but found his eyelids too heavy to any but close, slowly, the image of an old man with a skull-tipped cane the last thing he saw before he drifted off for the night…

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AU: So, here we have it, another Severus Snape story, and I think by now, you all know who he's going to be lusting after.

Consider this story to be the song "Sympathy for the Devil" meets the old allegory, "Dr. Faustus". With a Lady Kyo twist, of course. Enjoy!


	2. I'm a Man of Wealth and Taste

Sympathy for the Devil

Sympathy for the Devil

disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters, nor do I own the music referenced in or by any character herein.

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Chapter 2: I'm a Man of Wealth and Means

Severus woke the next morning with a roaring hangover. He cradled his splitting head in his hands, convinced even more surely than the night before that his interlude with "Mephistopheles" was no more than a mere firewhiskey-induced hallucination

"That will teach you to buy the cheap stuff and drink quite so much of it, Severus," he chided himself, heading directly for his bathroom, refusing to look into the mirror. In sixty somewhat years, his reflection had never changed, only aged. His teeth got yellower and more crooked, his nose hooked more as his face became more gaunt, and his hair only ever stayed greasy, no matter how often or well he washed it. He considered chucking every mirror in his domicile, but deduced that Albus would have found a way to charm any flat surface into a mirror just to devil him.

"Devils. Hmpph.," Severus shrugged and climbed into the shower, sluicing himself with tepid water, soaping up and sluicing off again. No need for pampering a body that never saw the light of day. He stepped out and dried off, selecting clean robes that looked no different from the ones he'd fallen asleep in the night before, save that they weren't sleep-rumpled.

House-elves procured his breakfast and he ate in silence, digesting more of the Potions journals in front of him than the toast and eggs. He drained a pot of coffee, noted that he was only making his teeth worse with his habit, and stretched his arms out with a snap, so his robes settled perfectly on his shoulders.

He was ready to terrorize dunderheads for the day.

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"Baker! Can you NOT read? Don't they teach muggles anything in primary forms? Or did your parents know you would be a wizard and forgo any sort of background education, assuming it would come to you magically with you Hogwart's letter?!" Severus hissed into the third-year's face. Tristan Baker had destroyed his fourth cauldron of the month, and it was only a week and a half into it. "Unless, of course, your parents have a deal with the cauldron developer, seeing how badly botched a potion the blasted things can take before disintegrating!"

An internal clock went off and Severus rose, turning his venom on the entire classroom.

"Get out. I want three feet on the importance of direction of stirring and the need for accurate dicing of toad's tongue, due at the beginning of your next lesson. And Puttlewaite, I don't want any more of your 2 inch margins. Both Filch and I are getting sick of you gracing our detentions!"

The third years fairly ran from the room. Professor Severus Snape had been in a particularly foul mood by the time they'd shown up for their double-lesson. Even he realized he was nastier than usual.

It probably had something to do with the fact that for some reason, he'd been extremely… popular… the entire day. He thought he'd gotten over his teenage insecurities, but no, people staring at him still unnerved him. Worse yet, he couldn't figure out _why_ they kept staring at his ugly mug. The first years had been in term long enough for the awe to wear off, and it had been scared out of the second years and up. He was still bristling, though. He was used to _thinking_ he was being watched. But today – he knew all eyes had been on him.

And to top it all off, he had to go to dinner in the Great Hall. He'd already skipped both breakfast and lunch down there for the day. Minerva was not quite so gracious about his absences as Albus had been, and truly, once his Slytherins started misbehaving, he was the only one who could tame them. Which left him no choice. Not to mention that Minerva had no qualms about sending other staff to come routing him out, even once sending Sybil Trelawney to his quarters after he'd already begun undressing.

And that was one body even worse naked than his own.

He shuddered at the thought and packed up his supplies from the day, leaving his lab supplies for the specially trained elf to take care of. Satchel was Severus's own house-elf, and had been taught as much about handling Severus's personal supplies and equipment as Severus had. Severus waited until the elf showed up and started packing before leaving himself. Satchel would pack everything up and anything Severus needed for the night would be deposited in his quarters. He nodded to the elf and left at his special speed, his robes flaring just slightly behind him. He knew many of the students thought it was an enchantment, but it was, in reality, just how he walked, a measurde step, a steady clip… and he was as threatening as the large bat they referenced when speaking of him, as afraid to speak "Snape" as they had been of uttering "Voldemort".

It suited him just fine.

He took his seat at the head table and cast a hard eye at the students before him. He snarled and heads turned, eyes fixing on his visage until his eyes hardened and they realized he was ready to hand out detentions. A dull roar settled over the Hall and dinner commenced with a bit less than its typical enthusiasm. A quiet titter ran up and down the staff table, but no-one addressed him. It wasn't until his seatmate jostled him until he even realized who had drawn the short straw and ended up next to him for the week.

"Ahem. My apologies, Professor Snape," a brunette with too much curly hair said, ducking her head in a bow before trying to squeeze behind his chair.

"Oh, Weasley drew the short straw again," Snape sneered. Hermione grimaced and set her own even, white teeth in what could be construed by someone who didn't know her as a polite smile. Severus himself knew it was a snarl, he'd surely seen enough of it while she was a student.

"Granger, actually. Though I imagine you know that, and are just taking this advantage to remind me of my unpleasant situation?" Hermione growled. For a moment, Severus blanked, then remembered. She was divorced, and it had been somewhat nasty.

He cringed inwardly. He actually hadn't meant to rub her nose in the fact that her divorce was fresh and barely out of the papers. To make it worse, as she taught at the very school her children attended, she had gained no summer custody, and wasn't allowed to teach them or be allowed to arbitrate any disciplinary action taken against them at the school. Severus remembered that much because he'd been forced to sit detention for her son, Hugo, on more than one occasion, his acting out having gotten him kicked out of Professor Flitwick's classroom.

Dinner was drawing to a close, but Severus could feel Minerva's eyes on him. Scowling, he pushed his chair out and stormed after the younger witch. After a day of intense scrutiny from colleague and student alike, he did not want to coddle the damned woman. But it was better than a lecture from Minerva. A few sets of eyes followed him, but no-one was stupid enough to say anything.

Severus Snape did not need to be reminded that he was forcing himself to apologize to a witch who'd haunted him since she set foot in his classroom all those years ago.

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Hermione Granger Weasley – Hermione Granger, yet again – did not need her former potions professor and present tormentor reminding her that her marriage, which she'd been told was doomed from the start, was, in fact, facing said doom. Had already faced said doom.

The scowl on her face was as black as the one that lived on Professor Severus Snape's face. Face, because the look encompassed his entire face; even when he was wearing what would be on anyone else's face a neutral look, Hermione could see that scowl, waiting, habitating. It truly was something to envy or aspire to, some days. She hated that she always looked like she was calculating, or forming some plan. As a result, she never had time to just think, or daydream. Someone always wanted to know what "great thoughts Hermione Granger had in that bushy little head of hers".

It sickened her.

And now, on the night when her papers finally said her divorce was final and she was back to being Hermione Granger once again, she had to be reminded that she'd failed. By Severus Snape, no less, who, according to the most reputable wizarding newspaper available, had no right discussing the failure of her love-life, when he couldn't even figure out if he preferred wizards to witches. To top it all off, she was technically still on duty, so she couldn't even invite her children to her apartments to partake of their company, because it was a conflict of interest, according to the Hogwart's Board.

"Gods fuck me," Hermione groused, taking the long route to her apartments, which were just above Severus's own dingy quarters. She'd never been there, but she assumed his abode matched his disposition and demeanor. She didn't want to hear the words from her children's mouths, but she knew and used them well.

Paintings took in Hermione's pace and tension and many ducked behind whatever they could find to be spared her wrath. Even the ghosts were leaving her alone. She slowed her pace as she began to realize that she was disturbing the non-human occupants of the castle. A few nymphs came out from behind their tree, waving to her with sad smiles.

"Don't worry none 'bout losing your man," one nymph said, her red hair swinging around her face as she tried to lean out of her painting to talk to Hermione. "One man gets boring after a while. And tired. They always get tired. Much better to find one, tire him out, and find a fresh one!"

Hermione stifled a laugh. The nymph's emotions and depth were the same as her being – two dimensional, flat. But it was a fun perspective. Until she caught her reflection in a suit of armour. She grimaced and patted at her wavy hair. At least it was something to be proud of now, curly and wavy and soft, unlike the bristles she'd had growing up.

She thought about trying to talk with the nymphs, explain that tiring of a man was a sad thing, not an excuse to find a new one, but it was half-hearted, even in her head. She hadn't gotten tired of Ron, he'd grown tired of her.

He'd gotten tired of having to ask her to explain her work over and over again, trying to understand it. He'd grown tired of not knowing what she was talking about in her spell development. He'd gotten tired of pretending to care. He stopped caring, and then he'd grown tired of her, of Hermione herself, and of their union. Rose and Hugo were still their father's children, and he loved them, but he couldn't stand their mother any longer.

As Ron had grown tired, Hermione had grown frustrated and angry. She'd tried to put the anger aside, but once the anger fled her, all she had left was a sense of… not being enough. Oh, she was more than smart enough for the both of them. But she wasn't exciting enough, she wasn't outgoing enough, she wasn't beautiful enough, and she certainly wasn't… open enough. She was too bookish, too uptight, too in control, and too set in her ways.

"And I'm too damned old!" Hermione said, her voice echoing in the dank, empty hall. Her head drooped on her neck and she rolled the kinks out, a little bit. Her neck was always tense these days. Her shoulders sagged and she realized the absurdity of her situation and began to laugh, her soft belly shaking with it till she held her sides. After a few minutes, nearly silent footsteps came up behind her, but the laughter had already turned to tears.

She hastily scrubbed at her wet cheeks with the hem of her sleeve, cursing inwardly that she let weakness overcome her before she reached her quarters. She turned to apologize for the noise and make some excuse about a dust allergy when a hard-edged voice cut threw her plans.

"Gods be damned, Granger, if I'd thought calling you by your arse-headed ex-husband's last name was going to unhinge you, I'd have waited till one or other of your offspring had blown off my eyebrows again!"

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In all his time teaching her, mentoring her during her miniscule internship, and working with Hermione Granger, Severus had never once seen the girl looked so much like… a girl. Like most everyone else, he'd seen her maturity, and, he realized suddenly, taken advantage of it. She was the brains in whatever group of people she was surround by, she was the thinker, the planner. A cold sense of dread and guilt washed over Severus as he watched her wipe at her tears and try to lie to him about the source of her anguish.

Clearing his throat, Severus produced a clean, black handkerchief and passed it to her, shaking his head when she tried to refuse. She took it, wiped her eyes and blew her nose, looking in dismay at the soiled cloth.

"I'll have it laundered and returned to you before breakfast tomorrow. I'm sorry to have put you out. You see, it really is quite dusty in this old ca—" Hermione began, but Severus cut her off by pointing to his temple knowingly. "Ah, nevermind. Legilimency."

Severus nodded awkwardly. He hadn't been looking into her mind on purpose, but she'd been… projecting, to say the least. He jerkily put his hand out to pat her shoulder, and she shied away from him. He nodded and his hand returned to his side. He knew all too well what it was like to be different, and to have it thrown I your face. At least he'd always dealt with it. Hermione had it thrust in her face quite glaringly with her divorce. He looked into her face as she cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you with my despicable display of humanity, Professor Snape. I wasn't expecting company, you see. And today, my divorce became final, and I can't even hold my children for my own comfort," Hermione said, trying to fight a fresh wave of tears. "You must be choking on held back laughter right now. Hermione Granger, bookworm, and she couldn't even see that her marriage was doomed from the start!"

"Nothing is written in stone, Ms. Granger," Severus said quietly, hoping to calm her. He disliked seeing females cry, especially ones younger than him and quite a bit out of his league. It always made him want to do stupid things, like quash the source of their discontent. "And I can tell you, from experience, that the human heart and psyche are more malleable than anything else on this earth."

Hermione blinked a few times and stared at him. Professor Snape, not only offering what meager solace his blackened heart afforded, but sharing any personal tidbit? She was as shaken by that as she was by her outburst, but she covered it well, coughing lightly and nodding in agreement.

"For sure, you are right. Imagine everyone's surprise after all these years how malleable your own figure is. It really gives me… us… hope, seeing you taking a care for yourself after all these years. Thank you for the hankie, and as I said, I'll return it post-haste," Hermione smiled weakly and bobbed her head in a courteous bow before turning and beating a retreat to her rooms.

Severus stared after her, consternation clear on his face. First everyone staring, now a near-compliment from a woman he'd surely helped towards a crying jag? He gritted his teeth and cast a reflective spell on the nearest flat surface so he could glimpse his reflection, and his eyes grew rounder than Hagrid's stomach.

His nose didn't seem nearly as hooked against a face now no longer gaunt but vital; sallow skin had a healthy tinge in cheek and jaw, his hair shown silky instead of glaring oily, and … he bared his teeth in something akin to a forced smile. Yes, his teeth were even and white as Hermione's own.

"And to win it all, I've sold my Voldemort-blackened soul to the blasted Devil."

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AN: So, this chapter dragged a bit. There were a few places I could have… perhaps should have ended it (I love some of those lines). However, I've got a pace I'm trying to keep.

Severus has realized his predicament, and now he has to fix it (hmm, can he fix it on his own?). Hermione needs her head examined, and it isn't like she can go to a shrink, can she? Finally, how exactly can a soul be saved once it has been sold? We'll see soon. Please read and review (don't make me hold this hostage), and we can get a move on!


	3. I've Been Around for Long, Long Years

Sympathy for the Devil

disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters, nor do I own the music referenced in or by any character herein.

This chapter is dedicated to Maddie50, the first reviewer for this story. You all know the drill by now, first review gets the next chapter dedication.

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Chapter 3: I've Been Around for Long, Long Years

Severus hid out in his quarters for the weekend. He kept expecting to wake and see that his looks had reverted to their previous state, or for Mephistopheles to show himself again. But mostly, he wanted to keep himself from staring eyes and adoration. A fair number of the seventh year witches had sent him flirtatious notes via house-elf and owl alike, and he'd sent back detention slips – to be served with Filch or Hagrid. Severus wasn't quite stupid enough to give any of those girls a detention with himself. He didn't relish the idea of a suit pressed by an angry father.

Only one note was enough to make him reconsider his confinement. Hermione had personally delivered his handkerchief, and she'd invited him to share a light breakfast. She'd been projecting again, and Severus had blocked the images. He didn't want her thinking he was a good listener. He didn't need anyone else's insecurities. He had enough of his own. Instead, he'd grouched at her a bit, spicing his diatribe with some advice, like a good colleague.

"Dammit, Granger, it's too blasted early to be knocking," Severus had growled after opening the door. He did admit, at least, that if it had been any other witch or wizard at his door, he'd not have answered, or answered with a swift hex. Hermione stood there in his doorway, her soft blue dressing gown open over a long, old wine-coloured nightdress. Her feet peeped out, bare, and he grimaced. The castle was too cold for such attire even in the middle of the summer. "And put some slippers on, or something! You'll catch your death of cold otherwise, and then where would Minerva and I be, looking for a new Defense teacher halfway into the term."

Hermione opened her mouth to be snide, and caught herself. She bristled for a moment but pasted a smile on her face.

"I appreciate your concern, but I have two children that I scold better than that. I was merely returning your hankie and was about to be off back to bed… but seeing as you're awake, shall we share a morning coffee? Unless, of course, you're worried about staining your teeth, though I thought wizarding dentists put a stain-retarding spell on teeth afterwards," Hermione began babbling on, and Severus groaned inwardly. He let her continue for a few minutes, trying to keep his yawning to a minimum. He followed her reasoning, but soon his physical state began overtaking his mental processes. He reached up and leaned against the doorjamb, stretching. Hermione fell silent and he shook himself.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Granger, but this old excuse for a body sometimes needs stretching to get rid of the kinks," Severus said apologetically. "And while I agree with you in that denta-wizards should apply stain-resisting spells, I would point out that if they did, they'd soon put their profession near to extinction. Instead, they would do best to create a line of tooth-powders to help combat enamel erosion, ergo creating more of an income without decreasing their customer base."

Hermione smiled, her eyes sparkling a bit, and Severus looked down and mentally sighed. Mephistopheles had extended his largesse to Severus's figure as well, softening some of the scars while enhancing his lean musculature. He reflexively squeezed the wood of the jamb instead of growling at Hermione and found that the muscle wasn't all for show. He really was stronger, more fit. Not younger, in any way, but more… well-preserved.

Severus realized he had inadvertently hit two of Hermione's "buttons"… he kept up with her quick mind, and apparently, she had a thing for the lanky but strong body type. A part of him flared to life while another died; Mephistopheles's magic had done this. When Severus figured out how to fix his predicament, this would go away, and she'd look elsewhere. He was also annoyed that she was so easily taken in, and that, somehow, he'd tricked her, even accidentally.

"Ms. Granger, go back to bed. That's what I'm planning to do. Now scoot. And perhaps at a later date, you can regale me with more of your ridiculously large intellect," Severus yawned from sheer exhaustion. That seemed to break Hermione's reverie and he nearly kicked himself. She projected straight through his blocks and he felt lower than Tobias Snape dead and twelve feet deep buried. "That was meant as a compliment, not as an insult. You do have a large intellect, something that should be valued. Not something that should be used against you like a weapon. But I really am tired. Good night, Ms. Granger."

Severus pushed back from the doorway and moved to shut the door firmly but not rudely in front of Hermione when she finally spoke again.

"If we're going to actually speak to one another, perhaps you need to practice pronouncing my name. Most people don't say it correctly. Call me Hermione," she said softly before turning and leaving. Severus watched her pad away on quiet feet and he closed his eyes briefly.

It had been years since he'd called a "friend" by first name. Albus and Minerva didn't count. For a moment, he wished she'd waited so he could ask her to call him Severus, but he was glad when the instant passed. He shook his head and shut the door firmly, dragging himself back to his bed for a few more meager hours of sleep. He pulled the covers over his old bones and wished himself a dreamless nap.

He needed to be on his feet to battle wits with Mephistopheles.

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Hermione fairly sauntered back to her bed. Talking with Professor Snape had not been nearly as bad as it could have been. Perhaps his dental work had something to do with it.

"Confidence in one's appearance can often lead to better inter-personal relationships," Hermione said to herself. She glanced along the corridor. Her old habit of talking to herself had been trying to resurrect itself since she'd first seen the divorce papers. It wouldn't do for a student to catch her talking to herself, lest she be lumped in with Professor Trelawney.

She winced at the cold finally started to get to her through her feet. She'd never admit it to him, but Snape had been right. She was going to catch her death of cold if she continued to patrol the castle barefoot. She sighed and crawled back under the covers, scrubbing her hands down her face as she drifted into a memory…

"_Miss Granger! I trust you realize by now that when you write Weasley's papers for him, I can recognize your syntax as well as your script!" Professor Snape howled in the middle of the study hall. All the heads turned towards her. "Or does nothing reach your brains through that hedgerow you call hair?"_

_Hermione's cheeks flamed and she stood, turned on her heel, and marched out of the hall, the big black Bat staring after her, barely able to contain his sputtering. She was not going to lose her temper or cry in front of him, not this time. She got down the hall before her eyes burned, and she ran to the window, gasping for breath._

_She wiped her eyes and as her vision cleared, she blinked a few times, her eyes searching the field. It looked like a young wizard was stuck in the middle, not moving. She stole a glance around her before shimmying out the window, using a quick air-pillow charm to soften her landing._

"_Are you alright?" she asked the boy. He shook his head and lifted a weak arm, his white robes drenched in blood. "Were you attacked by You- V-Voldemort?"_

_He shook his head and tried to roll onto his back, his shoulders a mess of torn flesh and blood; howling in pain, he gritted his teeth and stared at Hermione, his eyes asking silently for an end to the pain. Hermione shook her head, reaching for her wand and murmuring soothing words to him._

"_It's alright, it will be alright. Who did this to you?" Hermione asked quietly, watching his eyelids droop as the pain caused him to pass out. She readied her wand and cast the healing spell, a massive white light enveloping them, as great—_

"Mum? Mum! Open up. Its Rose, Mum, and I need to talk to you!" the banging on the door woke Hermione abruptly, and she grimaced as she rolled out of bed, wincing at the creaking in her bones.

"Rose? What's wrong?" Hermione called, dragging her robe back on and sliding her feet into her slippers. She all but ran to her door, wrenching it open to find her daughter standing before her, clad in denims and a jumper, her usually neat, wavy red hair a sickly flat black. "What did you do to your hair?"

"Well, I just wanted to see what I'd look like with darker hair, like yours – and it backfired!" Rose wailed. She tugged at the mass of black waves and Hermione shook her head, grabbing her shoulder and dragging her into her parlor. "I have a date with Knox Knightley tonight!"

Hermione stopped mid-putter, staring at her daughter.

"You never introduced me to Knox, Rose. I thought we had an agreement that you bring him to meet me before you go prancing off with a boy," Hermione said, reaching for a vial of Color-Me-Back potion. "And I thought you were going to your father's for the weekend."

Rose sat heavily on the couch, looking at her feet. Hermione put the nearly empty vial on the coffee table so she could cross her arms, settling her gaze on Rose's face. Her daughter wouldn't meet her eyes and Hermione sighed.

"Knox isn't new, is he? And you're taking him home to meet your father," Hermione stated quietly, not asking. She reached down and nudged the vial towards her daughter. "It's almost empty, you may have to ask around and see if your friends have any more."

"I already did," Rose said, still not meeting her mother's eyes. She took the vial and looked up. "I thought we could brew some together."

Hermione stared at her daughter, trying to recall if she'd ever hurt her mother that quickly with so few words. After a few moments, she forced herself to smile weakly. She nodded, swallowing the hurt and cracking a joke.

"Well, I haven't broken into the Potions Labs in years, shall we see if I can still remember how?"

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Rose was quiet as she watched Hermione scan the door to the lower Potions lab, releasing a few simple wards and smiling to herself.

"I should have known Severus would fall back on muggle locks to secure the lab," Hermione muttered under her breath. She reached up, plucking a pin from her hair, straightening it and inserting it into the lock. "A-ha! This one has 6 cylinders, but the last two haven't engaged."

Rose watched in awe as Hermione shimmied the lock for a few tense seconds, smirking as it finally clicked and the door creaked open.

"Perfect! We're in—"

"Deep. Trouble," a voice drawled as Hermione and Rose turned to see Severus Snape standing behind them, a menacing sneer on his face, his arms crossed.

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AN: Alright, its been a while. Read, review, and I'll try to get my act together and get more stuff up sooner.

First review gets the dedication, as always.


	4. Stole Many a Man's Soul and Faith

Sympathy for the Devil

**disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters, nor do I own the music referenced in or by any character herein.**

**This chapter's dedicated to sjrodgers108 for her quick review. Yay!**

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Chapter 4: Stolen Many a Man's Soul and Faith

**Hermione blinked a few times, speechless at having been caught. Rose grabbed her mother's hand and swallowed.**

"**I-it's my fault, professor. As you can see, I had a mishap with hair colour, and Mum's just trying to help me fix it," Rose said shakily. She looked from the dour Potions Master to her mother, hoping it would help make up for taking Knox home without telling her. "She's out of the de-colouring agent I need and we thought to make some. We just – didn't want to wake you for something so trivial."**

**Hermione bit back a groan. She'd known Severus too long; Rose should have just owned up and apologized. As it were, Severus's nostrils flared at the falsehood and she shook her head imperceptibly. **

"**Miss Granger, to start with, you have no right breaking into a school potions lab, your mother should have enough in her own stores to make de-colouring agent or she could have procured a vial from you via owl. Secondly, you should know better than to try any glamour magic without a skilled mentor to repair damage; at your age, you're fool enough to want to do it immediately, without thinking about the consequences. Besides, the darker hair suits you, you look more your mother's daughter than your father's," Severus trailed off, looking from daughter to mother and back again.**

"**30 points from Gryffindor and a week of detentions, my classroom."**

**Rose opened her mouth but shut it abruptly when Hermione stomped her foot. She winced and nodded, turning to head back to her room.**

"**Where are you going, Miss Weasley? I never said you were not allowed to use the lab."**

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**Horrible. **_**Absolutely**_** horrible, in Rose's opinion. Here she was, brewing a potion she'd never brewed before, under the watchful eyes of two master potion brewers. Her mother's mouth was set in a thin line as she tried not to correct Rose's brewing, and Professor Snape's mouth was slanted at an odd angle, somewhere between bemusement and boredom, waiting for her to bugger it up.**

**As she stirred for half an hour clockwise and then exactly five times counter-clockwise, Rose was reminded why she always tried to buy this potion instead of brewing the difficult but moreover tedious elixir. She blew her bangs back and caught sight of her mother sitting near the potions master's desk, wondering how her mother had dealt with the dour instructor for seven long years. Rose disliked him, but he seemed at times to hate her – or at least her relationship with Rose's father, Ron.**

**Rose turned her head slightly, to better see Professor Snape, who was leaning against his desk almost casually, his hip almost level with Hermione's head as she sat. In a way, Snape was built like Ron, long, lean and lanky. But that was where the similarities ended. Snape was dark, brooding, brutish at times; Ron was light, laughter, and … rambunctious. Rose knew that if she could convince her mother to work a bit less, maybe live off-site and commute, maybe her parents would have a chance.**

**With a sigh, Rose put her long iron stirrer down, cautious not to get any of the liquid on her sleeve. Thoughts like that were meant for her brother, Hugo, not a witch nearly ready to sit her last exams and start her own life. Good riddance to her parents' marriage, she thought. At least they wouldn't be making each other miserable, and Rose and Hugo in the process.**

"**Professor, I believe it's done. Shall I try it?" Rose asked quietly. Hermione opened her mouth and was silenced by a look from Snape.**

"**I'm afraid not, Miss Weasley. You see, the home-brewed version of this potion doesn't contain any accelerants, like the mass-produced that you buy from the alchemist. It will have to sit for at least twenty-four hours," Snape said, smiling silkily.**

**Rose's face fell before she could stop it. Her eyes narrowed and she stuck her hands on her hips, the very image of her mother, with her father's flash-fire temper.**

"**So, it wasn't enough to dock points, give me a WEEK of detentions, and have me brew the potion under your scrutiny so I nearly ruined it – you couldn't have told me it needed an accelerant?! What pathetic, boneless, heartless need drives you to belittle, torment and abuse students and the trust they should be able to have in an instructor?!" Rose bellowed at full voice.**

"**Rose Molly—" Hermione stood, knocking her chair back, but Severus put a hand in front of her, taking a step and leaning down, his face in Rose's, their noses almost touching.**

"**Why, Miss Weasley, I do believe it has the same roots as your father and his best friend's need to continue the abuse and disrespect they were taught by the previous generation. And I suggest you lower your voice before the punishment gets any worse. The worst of it is going on a date with darker hair than you're used to, Rose. **

"**You think your brother Hugo is immature, wanting your parents back together? Grow up, Rose Weasley, you hurt your mother and lied to cover it up. The consequences could be worse, at this point they barely fit the crime," Severus hissed the last bit, and Rose shook in her place before turning and dashing out. **

**Hermione stood silently for a moment. She was glad that Rose hadn't overturned her cauldron on the way out, but she was shaken by the exchange between her colleague and her daughter. Rose would have kept on going, had Ron been the one to come at her that way. Hermione would have sent Rose to her room. Severus, however, had just turned the tables on the girl, and Hermione would have bet galleons the girl had raced back to her room, not out the castle.**

**After a few moments, Severus took a breath and looked at the floor before speaking quietly.**

"**I'm sorry, Hermione. I am her instructor, not her parent. In the future I will strive to keep a better mark on the line, and not cross it with your daughter," Severus said, turning on his heel and striding purposefully towards his office.**

"'**S quite alright, Severus. Rose was out of line, and had I opened my mouth, you'd have been treated to quite the scene. It's never pretty between mother and daughter," Hermione said with a wry smile.**

"**Even when the younger is at least half as charming as her mother?" Severus said as the door shut between the two of them, leaving Hermione stunned into silence.**


	5. Bridge

Sympathy for the Devil

**disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters, nor do I own the music referenced in or by any character herein.**

**This chapter's dedicated to sjrodgers108. Who, as an avid reader and reviewer that I LOVE… is probably going to set a record for number of chapters dedicated to her. :) **

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Chapter 5: Bridge

**That evening found Hermione conducting Rose and Knox to Ron Weasley's new home. Late that afternoon, Rose had shown up in Hermione's apartments again, Knox in tow. Rose introduced her beau to her mother, who smiled politely, nodding at the appropriate times while her daughter extolled Knox's better qualities, glazing over his struggles with some of his early studies, and his occasional brushes with disciplinary action during his time at Hogwart's. When Rose was finished, she and Knox waited for Hermione to say something, anything.**

**Hermione quietly poured tea, offering biscuits and sweetener. Rose sipped quietly while Knox nibbled on a biscuit. After a few minutes, Hermione put her mug down and patted her lips with a napkin.**

"**So. You're Knox, my daughter's latest boyfriend. You've already graduated from Hogwart's, and you've a commission to work for the Ministry of Magic in the Muggle Relations Offices, incidentally with Rose's paternal grandfather. You've been "serious" for more than a year, and yet in all this time, you've visited Rose, not come to see me, and I live here, and instead of meeting her muggleborn mother, you're going for a weekend, with her, to her father's – the son of your supervisor. Am I correct?" Hermione asked softly.**

"**Yes, Ma'am. Ah'm sorrah Ah di'n't think this through 'fore we got so serious. It seemed like if it got serious, then Ah'd meet everyone, startin' with her father. That's how we do it 'n the States," Knox replied with a thick Southern accent. Hermione blinked. "Ah was a transfer when the N'Orleans Academy for the Magically Touched was temporarily shut down after the storms."**

**Hermione nodded, biting her lip. She plastered a smile on her face. "An American, to boot. I don't remember anyone telling me that you were an American."**

"**Mum, it never came up. Knox has the right of it – he thought he might be going back to the States after he graduated, but he was offered his commission and—"**

"**And Rosie here, well, we're contemplatin' more'n just courtin', ya see," Knox added. "Ah was goin' ta ask her Pa after her, see if he already had a man – or wizard – in mind for her already, you see. Ma petit, here – well, she's quite the catch."**

"**You're going to take Knox to your father to see if he'll give you his blessing on an engagement?? And you never brought him to meet me?" Hermione spluttered.**

**Rose shook her head and looked from her mother to her boyfriend. "Well, that certainly wasn't MY intention for this weekend."**

**Knox smiled sheepishly, then took Hermione's hand in his own.**

"**Miz Granger, Ah'd like very much to propose a marriage with your daughter. Rosie's a good girl, a good woman. And Ah'm more'n happy to stay here in the Isles for a while after we take our vows, so you and Mr. Weasley can see your first grandbabies," Knox said with a grin. Hermione nodded, shaking.**

**Knox turned from mother to daughter, getting down on one knee, holding out a small, black velvet box. He opened it with a flick of his wrist, revealing a small ruby settled in a cluster of baby diamonds, all nestled in delicate white gold.**

"**Rose Molly Weasley, my Rosie fair, would you marry me, seeing as how your Ma dun seem to mind me too much?"**

**Rose gaped at the ring and Knox's shining face, unable to speak, simply nodding her head endlessly. Hermione snorted quietly, remembering the fumbling way Ron had proposed to her so long ago, a simple "Wouldja marry me, 'Mione? I mean, Harry's got Ginny and we always knew we'd have a bunch of brats."**

**Hermione bristled; she wasn't going to waste this important moment in her daughter's life by reminiscing about the beginning of her ill-fated marriage. Rose was still nodding and Knox was starting to sweat, near to shaking on his knee. Hermione cleared her throat and Knox turned to her, helpless and suddenly seeming much younger.**

"**Rose," Hermione said softly. The girl didn't rouse so Hermione spoke a bit louder. "Rose Molly Weasley, the young man has asked you a question and I don't want your grandmother finding out you've forgotten the manners she and I spent so much time teaching you. Open your mouth and give him a proper answer, yay or nay."**

**Poor Knox paled visibly at the idea that Rose might turn him down, and Hermione winked at him. At the mention of her grandmother, Rose snapped out of her daze.**

"**I, er, that is… Mum, are you alright with that?" Rose asked stupidly.**

**Hermione rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, nodding. Rose grinned and grabbed Knox's hands, pulling him to his feet.**

"**Of course I'll marry you, Knox! I wouldn't have it any other way," Rose cried, kissing him soundly. Knox held her tightly, his hands shaking as he placed the ring on his fiancee's finger. After a few moments, her released Rose and she flung herself into her mother's arms.**

"**Mum! I had no idea he was going to – I mean, I wanted him to but – Mum, I can't believe it, I'm getting married," Rose's words tripped over themselves and Hermione had to laugh. She let Rose go and turned to Knox.**

"**You will wait till she is graduated, it won't be too long now. And I think it would be wonderful if you both stayed close by, at least for a while. Always nice to be near at least one set of in-laws while you're working out all the kinks. Knox, welcome to the family," Hermione said, clasping Knox's hand warmly.**

"**Now. Let's get you to Ron's so he can have that long overdue heart attack."**

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AN: So… the title of this chapter, Bridge, is a music term referring to a specific transitional grouping of words, usually between a verse and chorus, or between 2 verses instead of a chorus, and often includes a shift up or down to a new key.

Obviously, this chapter really was neither Snape nor Snape and Hermione-centered, but anyone who's read my stories before knows I like to have at least 2 plots going at any given time.

Who can guess what other fictional character Knox "sounds" like? If one of y'all can guess who, that reader will get a walk-on OC named after him or her.


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